


Velvet Gowns

by desperationandgin



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-27 11:45:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5047261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desperationandgin/pseuds/desperationandgin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regina's red gown in Camelot turns out to be inspiring for Robin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Velvet Gowns

Proper ladies,  _unmarried_  ladies with no wedding bands on their fingers, don’t get to casually sleep with the men they love. It’s the way of Camelot and realms just like it from the Enchanted Forest to Avonlea, and Regina being a former queen doesn’t allow her any special social treatment as far as putting on appearances are concerned. Snow and David are granted a room together, but for the rest of them it’s all separate beds and formal goodnights after they part ways for the evening. Robin whispers something in her ear as they kiss (sweetly in front of everyone which is different when they aren’t all caught up in dancing), something that makes her cheeks color a bit as she ducks her head and nods, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth. It makes him look a bit smug even as he swoops up Roland and heads to the room he’s sharing with Henry. It’s a grand adventure for their two boys, and for the younger of them, it’s his first real sleepover.

Regina’s the last to move from the library where they’d all convened to talk, to her room where the dagger is safely tucked away. It’s the last thing she wants to think about after Robin’s salacious whispering in her ear, but she spares it a moment to wave her hand, to protect it with light magic and then some to keep it safe. No one’s taking it from this room unless  _she_  moves it. Of that they can be sure, at least. And then she waits, taking a breath and trying to gauge how much time has passed since Robin left to tuck in the boys. Five minutes, perhaps? It feels more like hours, and as she hears the guards do their final pass through the hallway, she decides it’s been long enough. Stealing out of her room and quietly down the hall, she opens Robin’s chamber door, slipping inside and closing it again, turning the lock with a soft clicking sound.

“You kept it on,” comes his voice from somewhere behind her, though she can tell he’s walking toward her.

“ _Someone_  told me to,” she replies with an arched eyebrow as she continues facing the door, listening for any signs that she’d been seen. “Even if I would very much appreciate removing it.”

“I don’t believe that was  _all_ I said,” he retorts, hands moving to her hips, head ducking to kiss along her shoulder.

“No, no you said - and I quote - ‘I’ve been thinking about taking you out of that dress all day.’”

“But perhaps I wasn’t entirely truthful. It’s true, I do plan on removing you from the dress, but first I’ll admit I wanted to admire you in it properly.”

Regina’s lips curve up into a smile. “You like it, then?”

“Oh, my love, you look absolutely stunning.” Robin’s hands move around to splay warm against her stomach, then glide up slowly to cup her breasts as he kisses a line along the curve of her neck, resting just below her ear. “I think you must know that you drive me to distraction.”

Had she noticed the first time she wore the gown that his eyes immediately traveled up and down her form, his throat clearing and hands clasping firmly in front of him? And had she seen the way he leaned back just a bit as she turned to walk away from him, all to catch a glimpse of her ass?

Perhaps.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Robin of Locksley.”

She only has a moment to register the fact that she’s in his arms and he’s moving, much to her delighted shriek (that he quickly shushes), before depositing her on the bed.

“I hardly think that’s the truth, but I happen to like it when you play coy,” he murmurs, lips pressing to the skin of her chest, dragging over her until he gets to the edge of the gown and can only lick the curve of what’s still covered.

“When do we get to the part where you take me  _out_  of this dress?” Regina manages to ask, hands making passes up and down his sides until she finally grasps at fabric on the last upward movement, pulling the tunic over his head.

“Patience, milady,” he says, nose nuzzling against her before beginning to press slow, open mouthed kisses to the fabric covering her chest and down toward her belly.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Guess.”

She snickers at the retort, hands finally falling away to rest at her sides but not for long, not when he’s pushing at fabric and she can help by bunching it up toward her stomach. “I have an idea.”

He stops her just short of the fabric exposing her thighs and runs his hands over the material, soft under his touch, anticipation making his belly tighten because he knows what lies underneath the garment. But the way she feels in this dress, the way it hugs every delicious curve makes him want two things at once - to never see her out of it and slowly strip red velvet away to reveal what it teases. For now, he’s going with the best of both options, letting her resume bunching up the fabric so his lips can kiss along the curve of her right knee, fingers now skimming the smooth skin of her inner thigh. They haven’t had the chance to do this again, not quite yet with everything happening. There’d been bruising kisses in the dark outside and around the corner from Granny’s, frantic over-the-clothes touches that ended before anything could truly begin. He wants to take his time, wants to savor and touch and taste and -

“Don’t tease,” she manages, chest already rising and falling rapidly. “Not tonight.”

When he looks up at her, she seems torn to even say it, but he knows her fear, knows that if they linger and draw things out they will never make it to what they both want; something will happen. He’ll need to help her out of that line of thinking eventually, but tonight,  _tonight_ , he leans up and kisses her deeply, one hand threading through her hair before pressing his forehead to hers. “No teasing. But I will be making sure all parties are quite satisfied,” he quips, then ducks down her body again to the sound of her laugh, light and airy and making him smile. His fingers resume their stroking, up her inner thighs on one side, mouth following the same pattern on the other. He’s not teasing, not at all, but he does nose at her skin, wanting her to feel doted on, cared for, loved and cherished not just for this, but for everything she does to his heart. Only when she’s sighing, when her legs have parted to accommodate him, does he focus on the real task at hand. With hands stationed on the outsides of her hips, it’s only his mouth that drags across her, tongue dipping into her, and the moan that seems to reverberate from her soul goes straight to his cock; it’s a sound he hasn’t heard in too long, a sound he learned to cherish in her vault and recall in his dreams. She’s making it now, with him, and it’s all the inspiration he needs to circle her clit lightly, to feel her back arch as he keeps her in place. She still tastes like heaven, nothing distinct, just  _her_ , and for a moment he rests his forehead against her belly to take a breath, breathe her in before beginning again. His tongue drags up, then down in slow passes, hands moving from their temporary resting place to glide up as far as he can reach, then tickle their way back down lightly. She jerks against him, one hand making its way to his hair to keep him in place. He takes his cues from her and sucks, pulling her clit between his lips, the responding cry making his hips press to the mattress as he moves like a dying man, eager and wanting.

“I need…I’m..”

She’s incoherent is what she is, and Robin finally brings a hand into play, lips pressing to her skin as a finger slides into her easily, then another, curving upward, making her let go of the most glorious sounds he won’t bother to hush now. Let all of Camelot know that he is making the woman he loves writhe in pleasure. Perhaps then they’ll all rethink their stances on needlessly sleeping alone. Lips and tongue find their places again, tongue stroking against her in lazy passes while his hand moves steadily and her back arches higher. She’s so close, he can feel her struggling to hold on, to draw out her own pleasure while he doubles his efforts, nimble fingers finding their target every time. He covers her again, sucking hard, feels both of her hands in his hair now, tugging and pulling and pressing while she cries out;  _yes, there, there, Robin_ , and then there’s nothing but her body twisting, her mouth falling open in a silent cry of pleasure as she comes apart, too overwhelmed with it to make a sound at first, the delay quite satisfying as she finally yells out to the ceiling. She is lovely in so many ways, some simple and others quite complex, but this is his favorite: flushed and slowly relaxing in pleasure as her chest heaves and heart pounds. Slowly he makes his way back up her body, kisses peppering her torso through the dress that she finally uses her magic to get rid of, his clothes going right along with it.

There’s no speaking, no directions, only Regina’s hands pulling him closer, tugging him down into a kiss, letting her tongue move over her lips as she hums at the taste on his mouth. He has no time to think before her hand is wrapping around his cock, slowly stroking as he groans low in his throat, her thumb circling the tip of him, collecting the moisture already there and pulling it down, hand moving in lazy passes before he shifts and kneels forward on his knees. And even knowing she’s ready, he still can’t help but touch, watch her face this time as her eyes flutter closed, lips parting. On another night, perhaps, he would watch her come, watch the intricate changes in her expression as he takes her up and over the edge, but she has other plans, a different idea for how this evening ends, and she guides him into her body, hand falling away so he can ease into her slowly. She’s like coming home, his safety and salvation all ensconced in one woman, and Robin exhales a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, forcing his eyes open to look at her, finding her doing the same. Her legs move to wrap around his hips, pulling him down, causing him to thrust in a short, staccato rhythm that has his pelvis perfectly pressing where she needs it, makes her fingernails dig into his forearms. He wants to keep his eyes on her forever, watch as she tugs her bottom lip with her teeth, take in the way her breasts move (that he now has to palm, thumbs gliding over her nipples until their taut). She’s a vision, but the pleasure is overwhelming and his eyes slide shut as he wills himself to slow before it’s over all too quickly. They’ve waited so long, he won’t have it be over in a few mere thrusts.

“You’re beautiful,” he finally breathes out, opening his eyes again to look at her face, bending to press his lips to hers.

“Thank you,” she replies with no hesitation, and he laughs as he pauses his hips, because she  _knows_  she’s beautiful, and he loves her, loves this woman with everything in him, and lest she believe he’s laughing at her, he’s quick to speak again.

“There isn’t a thing about you, Regina, that I wouldn’t count as such.” And then he moves again, slower now, less concerned about finishing before being interrupted now that he’s inside of her.

It takes a moment for her to find her words, and when she does, her eyes open to gaze at him. “I haven’t… _God_ …I haven’t always felt that way.” She cants her hips, making him groan, rhythm picking up the pace.

“Haven’t always felt beautiful?” he asks, even though words are quickly slipping from him, coherency losing out in favor of pure pleasure.

“Not…not to include my heart,” she finishes, and then there’s a loud moan to punctuate that thought, her hips pressing up against his to grind shamelessly, conversation over because she can’t muster it anymore.

He can’t, either.

Robin moves faster now, hips against skin the only sound in the room other than their heavy breathing, her moans. One hand drifts again, splaying low on her stomach, but not so high that his thumb can’t press one more time and circle, fast and even tempoed in a way that makes her twist the sheets in her free hand. She’s so close, he can feel it in the way her muscles pull him in, by the way her breath hitches and she exhales, and then she’s gone, body arching up into his, hands moving to the back of his head again as her jaw drops. It’s pleasure in a way he can’t describe, it pulls him over and under until he’s thrusting once, twice more before coming, her name a whisper on his lips of complete reverence. He has no clue how long he stays like that, with his lips pressing to her shoulder as they both try to take deep, gasping breaths. He soon shifts, falling to her side and then tugging her over him, to hold onto her, drag his fingers over her back. He loves all of this with her, the frenetic energy between them, but  _this_  moment, when she is warm and soft and slack in his arms, this is the moment he most often dreams about. Simply being able to hold her where nothing can harm them or hurt them or try to tear them asunder.

“I missed you.”

Her words are soft, muffled against his skin, and his hand drifts down to thread through her hair.

“Never again, Regina. You’ll never have the chance.”

“Those are confident words considering our lives,” she tries to rebuttal, but he won’t have it, not tonight, and he tilts her chin up in order to see her eyes.

“You’ll  _never_  have the chance, Regina. Not again. You’re more likely now to grow weary of muddy boots in the house and me breaking modern contraptions because I don’t know what the hell to do with them,” he vows, his words making her smile - the exact result he was hoping for. That smile; still elusive and still every bit as satisfying. More so because he brings it out of her.

“As long as you don’t steal anything, thief,” she teases right back, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before settling against his chest again.

“Well, there’s only one thing I could think to want,” he decides. “And it’s already been given to me.” 


End file.
